In the memory of the dead all chronological differences are effaced.

Anything you can imagine you can make real.

What a big book, captain, might be made with all that is known!" "And what a much bigger book still with all that is not known!

Science, my lad, has been built upon many errors; but they are errors which it was good to fall into, for they led to the truth.

We were alone. Where, I could not say, hardly imagine. All was black, and such a dense black that, after some minutes, my eyes had not been able to discern even the faintest glimmer.

The chance which now seems lost may present itself at the last moment.

Solitude, isolation, are painful things, and beyond human endurance.